Nobody Said It Was Easy
by KingdomKey1121
Summary: Sirius at Gordric's Hollow and cornering Wormtail that fateful day.


_Poor Sirius. He's been through a lot of sh- in his years. I took some creative license here, hope no one minds..._

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There was nothing left. Nothing of my two best friends.

I stood gaping at the wreckage from the front gate, which was swung open and bent off of its hinges.

I was too late.

Most of the cottage was still intact, save the right side of the second floor. I would have preferred it entirely in pieces; to see it almost exactly the same as last I'd been here was almost sickening.

I slipped into the gate, taking care not to move it. With heavy, hesitant steps, I walked up the debris-littered path to the front door. Its doorknob had been blasted out. With a soft push on the wood, it opened and I stepped inside.

And there was James, at the foot of the stairs. Gagging, I made to leave, but caught myself on the doorframe. I turned back to my best friend, a frightened expression marring his usually happy face. His ruffled hair was half-obscuring his lifeless eyes, for which I was grateful. After a moment, I composed myself and, stepping around him, mounted the stairs.

With each step, my dread was heightened. I reached the top and turned right into Harry's bedroom. A breeze moved a bit of my hair. Being in the half-gone room was almost like being outside. There was no sign of Voldemort from what I could tell, not even a body. Then I spotted Lily, draped across the foot of Harry's crib.

I stopped dead. I would not, _could_ not look in the crib. At this, I turned on my heel and was out of the house in seconds.

"Sirius?" called a gruff voice.

Halfway across the lawn, I looked up, trying to keep the tears lining my eyes from spilling down my cheeks.

"Hagrid," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"Dumbledore sen' me t' fetch young Harry."

The deep breath I was taking to calm myself was caught in my throat.

"Harry… survived?"

"Far 's I know. I bes' go, 'fore Muggles star' swarmin'."

I nodded numbly and watched him push the broken gate out of his way and approach the house. I didn't follow. I couldn't see them again. I instead stationed myself outside of the gate.

He returned soon after, a bundle of blankets nestled into the crook of his enormous arm.

"Wh-where are you taking him?" I asked as he trudged back through the gate.

"Dumbledore's gonna give 'im to his aunt and uncle." Hagrid was crying now.

"Muggles?" Anger suddenly flared up inside of me. "Give him to me."

Hagrid shook his head, unable to speak through the tears that were coming swift and heavy.

"Hagrid, I'm his Godfather. Give him to me."

"Dumbledore knows what he's doin', Sirius."

I fisted my hands into my robes and clenched my jaw as hard as I could. I couldn't hold back my tears any longer; with a strangled sob, I threw myself onto my knees and began to weep.

I felt a huge hand pat me, none-too-lightly, on the back.

"S'okay, Sirius," said Hagrid through his own tears. "This is an awfu' thing that has happin'd, but Harry's okay, and You-Know-Who's gone, and—it'll all be okay!"

He turned away and with his free hand, produced a gigantic handkerchief from one of his many pockets and noisily blew his nose.

The sound seemed to draw me out of my despair; I found I could stand once more and wipe away my tears with dignity.

"Hagrid, take my motorbike."

"Wha'?" said Hagrid, still wiping his nose.

"It'll get you to Dumbledore faster. Harry needs to be safe. I need to know he'll be safe."

"Al' right."

I picked up the monstrous vehicle from where I had distractedly discarded it upon my arrival and wheeled it over to Hagrid. He swung a leg over it, and straddled it easily.

Without thinking, as Hagrid started the motor, I lifted my hand and moved the blankets out of the way. Harry looked exactly the same as well, but now he, like the cottage, was scarred. A lightening-bolt shaped gash had been slashed across his forehead. I quickly replaced the boy's wrappings and withdrew my hand.

"Go!" I urged and Hagrid was off and in the air, growing steadily smaller and more distant.

"Goodbye." I was saying it not only to my Godson but my old friends and their battered home as well.

Without wasting a moment, I began to run, and transformed mid-bound. The land hurtled past me; I could barely feel the soil beneath my paws.

I had only one thought: revenge.

"Peter," I growled through clenched fangs.

I knew exactly where he'd be. It's where any traitor would go if they had led their Dark Lord to his doom. At his hideout, packing for the flight out of the country, away from angry fellow Death Eaters.

And I was right. When I entered the small, filthy flat, the rat was scuttling about, throwing things haphazardly into a large suitcase.

"Why did you do it, Wormtail?"

Peter spun around so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.

"Sirius!" His beady eyes immediately flickered to his wand, which lay on the bed in the room to his right.

"James and Lily are _dead_." My voice cracked on the last word. "But so is Voldemort." At his master's name, Peter's whole body twitched violently. "And I've come to avenge my friends!"

I raised my wand. With a squeal, Peter swiveled around and grabbed a knife from the kitchen counter behind him and threw it at my head. With a flick of my wand, I redirected the flying knife away from me – it stuck into the wood counter. The distraction was enough; Peter had scampered into the bedroom, snatched up his wand, and scurried out the front door.

With a roar of animalistic rage, I dashed after him.

"Only a guilty man would run!"

As soon as I reached the door, I sent a curse at him – it missed, but he stopped and threw one at me. I dodged it easily and kept after him. "I always was the better dueler, don't you remember?" I called. I felt like I was speaking nonsense – like I was going insane.

He knew he couldn't outrun me, but he was sure going to try. Even if he transformed, I could catch him easily. He was cornered.

It suddenly occurred to me that everyone might think I'm the traitor – we didn't tell everyone that James and Lily had switched to Peter as Secret Keeper – but at the moment, this was a trivial detail.

He had halted at a dead end in the road. There were Muggles around, but I could care less. I was going to kill Peter Pettigrew, whether I was sent to Azkaban for it or not.

I slowed as I reached him, and stopped about ten feet away. Closing in for the kill…

"Sirius, you wouldn't kill me, you wouldn't murder your old friend?" Peter said suddenly, pleading. I was beyond reasonable response. My thirst for his blood needed to be sated…

"It wasn't me, I didn't betray them! It wasn't me! It was YOU! You betrayed Lily and James! I should kill YOU!"

The absurdity of this statement threw me, but I didn't have time to even think of a reply.

I had, in my rage and insanity, not realized his hand maneuvering his wand from behind his back. I had not comprehended that the thing that fell to the ground a second before it happened was his finger, because all was consumed by a blinding light as the street was blasted apart.

When I came around a few minutes later, I was surrounded by pieces of broken asphalt and screams. As soon as my eyes adjusted to the light, I looked around. A glance told me that at least a dozen innocent Muggles were dead, and Peter was nowhere to be seen.

And I just started to laugh. This was just too much – he was gone, he'd bested me. A manic, full-bellied, mirthless laugh gripped me and for a few minutes I couldn't stop.

Then the Ministry Officials came forth to arrest me, unaware of the rat that was scampering into the gutter.

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_Thank you for reading, please review? :)_


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